Sunken Peril
by lembas7
Summary: A journey to raise the unsinkable ship stirs a danger that has been lying quiescent in the deep. Falls between 'Ascending Angels' and 'Molten Time'
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** Van Helsing premise and characters belong to Stephen Somers. The plot is. . . very much Sol's, and not mine. I'm just the poor schmuck she found to write it. (_grin_)

**A/N:** Dedicated to Sol, the instigator and title-creator, who really wanted more Sean Connery goodness – what can I say?

* * *

SUNKEN PERIL

Flesh scythed the waves.

Fingers first, with a dark-haired head tucked neatly under the strong arms that followed. Torso, belly, legs, and pointed feet were enveloped in cool darkness. The arc of flesh, muscle wrapping bone, the squeeze of tendons, _reaching_ with the whole of the mortality that encompassed him. . . the dive had been exhilarating.

For all he was something _other_, Gabriel Bateman knew how to be human, too.

He needed to breathe.

And the light was so _far_ above . . .

His head popped free of the cold Atlantic, body moving now to keep airways, the fragile grasp on life, above the chill swells of seawater.

Noise reached his ears. Cheers, war whoops, and more than one cat-call. He turned his head to the ship, and saw shouting crowds lining the railings of the two decks. Despite the sudden cold, he felt a blush sweeping his cheeks. One voice rang out over all the rest.

"Are you completely _insane?_"

Grinning, he struck out toward the ladder a few yards away.

"_Fifty bucks says it's not there." _

_The Frenchman gave him an exasperated glance, but picked up the gauntlet. The technology was reliable; the crew were the best, though the mixing with the Americans had been. . . interesting, to say the least. Though they had been plumbing the depths for weeks without success, there was a feel in the air that their luck was about to change. "I believe we have not come this far to fail now." _

"_And if you win?" _

_The captain of _Le Suriot_ gave him a look filled with mischief. "You jump overboard." _Into the freezing depths of the Atlantic,_ was what he didn't say. Gabriel raised a brow, but accepted. _

_Moments later, a voice piped through the radio in exuberant French. "Capitan! Capitan! We have found her! Oh, she is beautiful - " _

_Through exuberant exclamations echoing from the speakers, the captain smirked at his first mate. "I believe the American expression is, 'cough it up'?" _

_Gabriel answered the smug smile with a wry shake of his head. _

Fingers grasped the cold metal rungs, and he hauled himself up the side of the _Le Suriot_. Indy was waiting for him with a towel and a grin; the older Jones stood behind him with a scowl. The hunter's dry clothes, folded neatly, lay on a bench nearby.

"You are," Henry announced to the crew at large, "completely out of your mind." A senior scientist among the predominant French team, the two had become unlikely friends in the eyes of the crew. As was the friendship with the brash American archaeologist also unlikely.

That the three might know one another from a time before this venture did not even enter the thoughts of those same crewmembers.

Grabbing the towel, Gabriel chafed bare flesh. "I like those jeans," he answered calmly, not at all perturbed at his state of near nakedness. He canted a brow toward the Frenchman, who was leaning against the helmhouse wall, shaking his head in amusement. "Permission to come aboard?"

Jean had been standing there since the deep-sea diver had been hauled aboard, waiting to demand payment on their bet. He'd been shocked when his normally reserved first mate had companionably agreed, and stripped down to his briefs before launching himself off the side of the ship.

Rumors of the bet, accompanied by the unaccustomed sight of the first mate shucking shoes and clothes had gathered all hands on deck almost faster than the word had traveled.

Now Jean surveyed pale skin, shivers, and blue lips. "Granted. Coffee, for you. And blankets."

The dangers of hypothermia were well warded off. No one who expected to come back out again went into the Atlantic unprepared. The sea was beauty and mystery and unfathomable hunger; even the wary could be taken by surprise at her quicksilver moods.

Gabriel opened his mouth to reply – and the ship rocked violently under their feet.

"What the -"

"_Fils d'unne chienne!"_

"Jumpin' Jehoshaphat!"

Assorted noises of shock and surprise died away as the tremor in the decks subsided. The Captain had already rushed to the helm; those members of the crew who knew the engines intimately scurried into the bowels of the ship. Scientists ran for their machines.

And Gabriel was left, mostly alone, on the foredeck.

"What was that?" Henry Jones, Sr., grasped the thick metal railing, gazing out into wind and wave. Salt lay heavy on the air.

Gabriel joined him, physical discomfort forgotten. Golden eyes stared into the waves, slicing as cleanly through the dark depths as his body had mere moments before. The problem was not on the ship, or in it. _Yet,_ a cautious voice spoke up, drawing on experience. . . and something else.

"A shot across the bow," he said softly. Not for the first time, he wondered what had drawn him to this place in this moment. Something on the edge of his senses tingled, sunken so deeply that seeking it was akin to plumbing untold depths. Much as their search here, for the body of that one ship deemed unsinkable, was.

And the sense of _other_, honed and hidden within mortality and the back of his mind, flared to brilliant life.

The towel slipped from his fingers to land in a sodden pile on the deck. He sucked in a silent breath. Touched the feeling gingerly, turning it over in his mind. Examining the sense of contained chaos, of darkness and light and exploding emotion bubbled into a physical talisman only waiting to be found.

It was not _evil_, precisely. But it was dark. Ruthless. And wherever it was, it wanted _out._

_Wherever it was . . . _Golden eyes were drawn once more to the deep, and the hidden wreck so many fathoms below.

"Gabriel?"

Henry was looking at him, worry in the old man's eyes and betrayed by every line of his face. Turning to him for reassurance, for answers. "What was that?"

It was something familiar, with a strange twist of the exotic. Undoubtedly dangerous; yet quiescent. For the moment. It was a promise of blood and passion, and a memory of creeping dread that floated just out of reach.

The whisper lay heavily between them.

"I don't know."

* * *

**A/N:** Well, I was stuck at the beginning for quite some time, and this came to me in the shower today. I'm only posting it because I'm hoping feedback will start the parasitic cycle of inspiration, as I don't actually have much more of this. Too much research, or not enough, methinks. _Le Suriot_ was the name of the ship of the joint French-American expedition to raise the Titanic in 1985, but all the people you see here are my own creations, with the obvious exceptions of Gabriel, Indy, and Henry. 


	2. Chapter 1

_**Three Weeks Ago:**_

Gabriel found his tongue first. "Fancy meeting you here."

Indy glared at the smirk, and took a deep breath. No good – his pounding heart didn't slow. "What the hell are you doing!"

"Checking up on the scientists."

"Checking up on the -" and then Indy registered the ship's logo, small but unmistakable, on the hunter's t-shirt. "You're part of the _Le Suroit_'s crew?"

"_Oui_."

He glared into laughing golden eyes. Took another breath, letting his heart slow to a reasonable pace, and reached for the clothes spilling from the open duffel. He'd been in the middle of unpacking when a knock had sounded on his door. His startled jerk on being met with the face of a man he hadn't seen in years had made a mess of his bunk. "What's gone wrong this time?" he managed to keep his voice level.

A surreptitious glance revealed that one eyebrow had quirked; the other man's expression was otherwise blasé. "What makes you say that?"

The last shirt got shoved in a drawer, and the duffel was summarily stowed. Indy turned to face his – guest – and said evenly, "Well, you always manage to pop in when disaster's about to strike. Or after the smoke has cleared." _To clean up._

A warm laugh coaxed the first smile from him. "It's good to see you," Gabriel said instead. "You've been well?"

"Yeah, I have." Surprisingly enough, it hadn't been as difficult as he'd thought to get used to the fact that he wasn't getting any older. "You?"

The hunter's hair was short, and at the best of times he would never be clean-shaven, but he looked well enough to Indy's eye. His own dark blond hair was a little longer than he preferred, but change was necessary enough. Add to that a pair of useless glasses, which altered his appearance more than he'd anticipated, and the bookish look was complete.

"Not bad," Gabriel answered easily. "Decided to come to sea for a change of pace." He stuck his hand out. "Gabe Bateman."

Indy snorted; the ritual was one they kept up, through various names and guises, whenever they managed to meet. "Indiana Johnson."

Wisely, the hunter kept any comment to himself. "Ready for the grand tour?"

Ducking out of the hatch was going to take a little getting used to. "Where are we going?"

"I need to collect the rest of the scientists," Gabriel answered, knocking on the door across from Indy's.

"Laurel Kiersted."

"You know her?"

Indy shook his head as they moved on, no answer coming from the door. "Read the nametag outside the door."

By the time they had reached the end of the starboard hall, four more men had joined them and they were missing only the one woman. The port side of the ship had all six occupants, and Gabriel was smoothly conversing with them.

Indy couldn't understand a damn word. Well, he wasn't getting any older. Might as well learn French.

"Welcome to the galley." Gabriel pushed the door open, easily switching to English. "Food is served three times a day, and you're welcome to help yourself in the meantime. Supply ship comes every ten days, and if you have any special requests you're more than welcome to make it known to the Cook, Delaflote. He's around here somewhere."

Laughter scattered through the group.

A shorter man, commanding and stern, approached. "Gabriel, _là où_ -"

"Captain," the hunter interrupted. "The scientists."

"Most of the scientists," Indy corrected under his breath. The hunter quirked a brow his way, one that read _I'll have my revenge – later._

"Ah, good." Even standing tall, the man's mane of brownish hair didn't scrape the bottom of Indy's chin. "_Mesdames et messieurs,_ welcome to _Le Suriot_. I am the Captain, Jean Merle. My first mate, Gabriel Bateman. Who among you might be Henri Godenot?"

Heads moved, mouths following, but no one stepped forward.

Merle's tongue clicked, he exchanged a glance with Gabriel. "Then it appears we have a problem. The head of the scientists has not yet boarded, and we are due to cast off within the hour."

"There's another scientist missing as well," Gabriel said lowly. "Laurel Kiersted was not in her cabin."

"Ah." Displeasure turned Merle's features severe. The smaller man turned to the hunter and said, "We must try to contact them, and find the reason for this delay."

Dark hair nodded; Gabriel was almost at the door when it opened practically on top of him. A lanky, tanned figure with rumpled gray hair and beard sauntered through. Indy's eyes widened as he saw fleeting recognition in the new arrival's face. _Dad?!_

He missed whatever shock might have shown on the hunter's expression in his own surprise. By the time he got a good look, Gabriel was already shifting out of the way, opening the galley doorway wider.

"Sorry I'm late," the newest arrival announced. "The lady and I ran into some trouble with transportation to the harbor." Only then did Indy notice that his father was closely followed by a round, older woman whose curls were ruthlessly scraped into a ponytail, not that it did much good to tame the mass bunched behind her head.

"_Monsieur_ Godenot?" And the short captain did well to be unsure; his father's English had a tint of England and the American southwest to it, rather than the distinctly French accent that tinted all the English sounds of the crew.

"_Oui_. Captain Merle?"

"Welcome aboard, sir," brown hair inclined, though Merle's voice was stiff. "We had become concerned at the delay. Is this Mrs. Kiersted?"

"Yes, thank you," the woman briskly shook the captain's hand, her stature even slighter than his despite the no-nonsense attitude in green eyes. Any vague wonderings Indy might have been harboring flew out the window, and then drowned for good measure.

"Good. Now that everyone is here, I have several things that must be said before we cast off," Merle motioned them toward seats. Indy caught his father's eyes and felt irritation scratch at his patience when Henry Jones, Sr., only blinked at seeing him. The small smile that flitted over his father's face did nothing to dispel his irritation. _He knew I'd be here._

Shifting against uncomfortable plastic, the archaeologist noted that Gabriel had disappeared, and tuned back in to Merle's voice.

"- ship-to-shore communications once a week. All parts of the ship are open to you except the engine room and helm, unless there is an emergency. We will practice safety drills today once we have put out to sea, and everyone will know where life-jackets and proper escape routes are located. Any questions?"

There were a few; Indy stopped paying attention. He hadn't been out to sea in years, but the scent of brine on the wind was kindling his need to be on the open ocean once more. _Water, in every direction, no land in sight . . . _

Frightening and exhilarating all at once. Merle soon dismissed them to begin the process of pulling out of harbor. A crowd of scientists, all eager to meet the coordinator in person rather than through mail, had gathered around Henri Godenot. Indy would say hello later, in private. For now . . .

_I wonder where Gabriel –_

He found the hunter in the stern of the ship, a blond boy and black Labrador at his side. Indy blinked, then looked again. He'd seen rightly the first time. The boy had both arms around the hunter in an exuberant hug; the dog was pressed affectionately up against his legs as well.

While the first words were whipped away by the wind, the archaeologist could hear the rest of the sentence as he got closer. "- knew I was going to be here, didn't you?"

"I had an idea," the dark-haired man said calmly, but there was a smile behind it that the boy clearly saw. The dog barked, and Gabriel laughed, one hand rubbing behind floppy ears. "It's good to see you too, Ned."

"Mind introducing me?" Indy hated the way the kid jumped, suddenly, and the open smile was replaced by a polite one.

Gabriel's hand stayed on the kid's shoulder; Indy got his first good look at the teenager as the boy turned. Straw-blond hair a little overlong, falling into light blue eyes. The face was younger than the height hinted he might be. Indy revised his definition of the boy's age; he was barely fourteen, if that. The white t-shirt was surprisingly blank of any insignia or band logo, as he might have expected, and the jeans and sneakers were battered but mostly new. The Labrador was a young dog, health shining from clear eyes and thick coat.

"Indy," Gabriel said with a smile. The archaeologist noted that his hand never left the boy's shoulder. "This is my nephew."

Both eyebrows were scraping his hairline before he could stop them. Indy swallowed the squeak of _Nephew?_ that wanted to come out. Nodded instead.

"Hi." This smile was friendly, if cautious. "My name's Ben. It's Neb backwards, short for Nebuchadnezzar. This is Ned. That's Den backwards, short for Denmark."

_Ben. Ned. _His brain finally connected the dots. Feeling like an idiot, Indy smiled. "I'm Indiana Jone – Johnson. I've heard a bit about you, Ben. It's nice to finally meet you."

"Indiana?" Curious blue eyes flicked from him to the hunter and back. "Indy?"

Wariness lapped at him like waves against the sides of _Le Suroit_. "Yep."

"I've heard about you too," Ben grinned.

"Oh, really?" Shooting a glance at the hunter, Indy wasn't reassured by the grin fighting its way from under Gabriel's control. Hazel eyes danced. "Nothing too bad, I hope."

The boy shook his head. "Nope."

"Oh. Well, that's good, then." Inordinately relieved, Indy felt the need to ask another question. "So, you're coming with us?"

"Yes." A proper answer, and the enthusiasm behind it had Ned prancing on four paws up to sniff his pants. Indy held out a hand and was rewarded by a soft lick. "I'm the cabin boy. We haven't been to sea in . . . awhile, and Ned'n'I were missing the ocean."

Something in the boy's manner spoke of long experience with ships and the sea, more experience than the tender years evident on his face would attest to. And there was that 'awhile'. He was definitely the boy Gabriel had mentioned on and off. "My Dad'll be glad to meet you," Indy said without thinking. _He would._

After all, according to the hunter, the boy was older than both Joneses put together, though the being passing for a man that was leaning against the ship's rail had them all beat without a contest.

Blue eyes lit up. "I'd like to meet him too. He's Henri Godenot, isn't he?"

Indy tossed a pleading glance skyward. "Did everyone know before me?"

Ben giggled. The sound reminded him of Shorty's laugh, before the boy had grown. He was an old, old man now who thought Indiana Jones long dead, but Indy hadn't been able to keep himself from surreptitiously checking up on the grandfather he'd known as a ten-year-old.

"Apparently," the hunter's dry voice cut into his reverie.

But then Gabriel always seemed to know everything, so that didn't count.

Steps sounded behind them, and Ben's face went polite once more. Gabriel straightened a little, suddenly becoming the ship's first mate, and Indy knew it wasn't his father who approached.

Captain Merle slowed to a halt beside them, glancing at Ben with a kind smile before turning to Gabriel and saying something short and to the point in French. The hunter nodded, turning to them with a smile. "Well, I have duties I must attend to. Doctor Johnson, most of the scientists are gathered at the bow. Perhaps you would like to join them?"

_Not a suggestion then._ "Thank you for your time, Mr. Bateman," he returned the cordial politeness with his best attempts at manners.

As he walked along the port side towards the bow, he heard Gabriel confirm meeting Ben at dinner, and wondered what his father would make of the boy. Henry Jones Sr. would like to meet Ben just for seeing his years of experience with cultures they would never know, but his father had never been good with teenagers. Or children, for that matter. They were too recent for him. But they would get along, if Gabriel had anything to say about it.

Still, joining the rest of the scientists at the prow, he couldn't help but wonder.


	3. Chapter 2

_**Now:**_

"What was it?"

Glasses skidded across thin metal, and the spectacles halted just before the table's edge. Durand spread thick hands; Gabriel could see the engineer was at a loss. "I don't know. Not in the engines, that's all I could tell."

"No seismic action on the ocean floor," added Veronique Goring. The scientists and crew who could be spared were gathered in the galley, trying to answer the captain's question. The hunter kept Ben and Ned close, tucked under the blanket Nefis had tossed over his shoulders with a grin. _"Can't let you freeze," Nefis grinned. "No way in hell I'd want your job."_ The second mate was only on board as a favor to Jean; a captaincy of his own awaited him back in Calais.

"This far out, a tsunami would only be a bump," Laurel Kiersted nodded. "But there are no fault lines or active volcanoes under the Atlantic. It must have been mechanical."

"And I'm telling you," Durand's voice rose, frustration roaring out in reply, "that it _wasn't._ There's nothing wrong with those engines, or this ship."

"That doesn't explain our problem," the captain's deep voice was icy. "Everyone here is telling me what it wasn't. You've had two hours. Does anyone have any idea what it _was?_"

Blank expressions were the only answer Merle got. Gabriel couldn't hold back his own frown, though he directed it down into the cup of hot coffee cradled in both hands. Clean, clothed, and dry, yet the chill of the Atlantic seemed to have settled deeply into his core, refusing to be banished.

"Shipwrecker."

At his side Ben shivered; Gabriel shot a sharp glance at the speaker. _Roux. I should have known._

"There is no room for superstition on this ship, Mr. Roux," Merle snapped.

The grizzled man shrugged thin shoulders. "I only know what I've heard, Captain."

"Rumors of an Egyptian mummy responsible for the sinking of _Titanic_ and a slew of other disasters are only tales," scoffed one of the submarine controllers – Justin Van Arnum.

A few groans were muffled around the table. Merle shook his head. "If no one has anything further to offer, we must now discuss the prospect of returning to port."

"What?!"

"No – we can't!"

"We've only just found -"

"_Monsieur _must be joking!"

Merle raised a hand, but the protesting scientists were too outraged to notice.

Gabriel took a breath. "_Quiet!_"

Startled silence flooded the galley.

"It is a matter of safety," Merle continued, stepping forward to command the room's attention. "I will not make the foolish mistake of ignoring trouble with this ship. Or of thinking her to be . . . unsinkable."

A heavy pause absorbed the meaning behind the short captain's words.

"But I tell you," Durand's square face was intent, "there is nothing wrong with _Le Suriot_!"

"As of this moment we have no other explanation, Mr. Durand," Gabriel slipped the blanket from his shoulders, wrapping thick cloth more tightly about Ben. The blond youth was shivering, thoughts racing through the air between boy and dog.

"A compromise," Indy spoke up. _I know that expression._ Gabriel quirked a brow. The archaeologist was an avid scientist first and adventurer second, but not by much. "Mr. Durand insists _Le Suriot_ is sound, and we have just justified the grant money extended to us. Give us three days, Captain Merle – a resupply ship is due then. If nothing happens during that time, we shall continue our studies here. If something should happen, you can plot a course to intercept the _Stribling_."

Confidence and sly agreement shone from the scientists; Gabriel wasn't as reassured as they were, and from the look of most of the rest of the crew, the more level-headed among them weren't either.

Tugging, on his sleeve. Gabriel looked down to find blue and brown eyes fixed on him.

"You are hoping for some of Columbus' luck, then, _Monsieur_ Johnson?" Merle's voice in the background.

As Ben's mouth opened, Gabriel shook his head, finger at his lips. The boy nodded, and then a thought sailed clearly through the space between them. _'What was it, Gabriel?'_

Pleading blue eyes with a tiny spark of dread couched inside; dousing that fear was the hunter's first priority. Still . . . _'I don't know yet, Ben. I'm sorry.'_

_'What's going to happen?'_ Ned, this time, the Labrador pressing one black flank against his boy. And the color of their apprehension told the hunter that the pair was more afraid for their friends, the crew and scientists, than for themselves.

"It looks like we're going to get to stay and find out," Gabriel murmured as Merle shook his head in reluctant agreement.

"Three days," the captain's voice carried over the smiles of the scientists. "If nothing occurs, we will revisit this discussion and decide where to go from there." Dark eyes caught Gabriel; the first mate nodded. "Mr. Bateman. Come with me, please."

"You'll be alright?"

Ben's grin was a bright twinkle, pulling an answering smile from the hunter. The boy had wandered the earth mostly alone for the past few hundred years; he knew how to take care of himself. _That doesn't mean I have to like it._ Gabriel squeezed one thin shoulder before following Merle through the hatchway.

"I must record the present events in the ship's log." Jean's voice clipped every word, betraying his agitation.

"Of course." The hunter paced just behind the captain, constricted by narrow passageways from walking at his side. For all his years with humanity, he hadn't known this man long enough to predict which way Merle would jump when forced into such a trying situation.

"I want you to go to the helm. Ship-to-shore. Relay to _Le Garde côtier_ our situation and actions."

"Sir."

Merle stopped dead at the agreement, a sigh wrenched from him. "And you, Gabriel. You were very quiet during that discussion."

Very little he could say to that; but as the second-in-command of _Le Suriot_, he knew what the Captain was asking. "You made the only decision possible, Jean."

A grim smile touched the corners of the shorter man's lips. "I only hope I will not come to regret it."

"Durand knows this ship, Jean, better than either of us know the backs of our hands. If he says there is nothing wrong -"

Merle paused, at the entrance to his cabin, turning back. One hand rested lovingly on the hatch. "Yet ships do not lurch as this one did without something being _very_ wrong, Gabriel – you know that as well as I."

The hunter couldn't prevent a frown from creasing his features. "Yes. I know."

"I have no stomach for mysteries!" The other fist slammed against the thin doorway.

"Then you should never have come to sea," Gabriel answered without thinking.

Stiff silence, then; the hunter grimaced. Of all the times to –

A huff of laughter, short and wry. "True," Merle admitted, running fingers through short chestnut strands. "But this mystery – it stinks of something I do not much care for, and I will not play with the lives in my hands."

"You do not," the hunter couldn't be bothered to temper the sharpness in his tone. "They are capable of choosing their own paths. You cannot make them change their minds, or make the choice for them." He knew that very well.

"Scientists," Jean groaned, pushing the door open. "I wonder if they know all the dangers they face."

"Some of them are fully aware," Gabriel agreed, knowing the man needed unvarnished honesty. In this case, it could only help. "The rest can imagine, and that is sufficient, I think." He smirked. "At least you do not have to list a cursed mummy among your troubles."

That startled a frustrated chuckle from the Captain. "_Cher Dieu_, that is the last thing we need!"

"I will speak with the crew, sir."

"I want those rumors squashed." Merle sat behind the tiny desk in his quarters, reaching for the locked safe containing a hard copy of the ship's log.

Gabriel leant against the hatch, not bothering to duck through and enter the Captain's quarters. "Consider it done."

Of course, it would not be that easy. But he had help in Ben and Ned, who would keep the crew from indulging in such sport, and Henry and Indy would do likewise for the scientists. Though truly they were the lesser worry, given that the _Titanic_'s location had been discovered. _They, at least, will be too busy to indulge in speculation._ With luck, they might just forget the incident entirely.

Though that could bring its own set of problems . . . .

"You're still here?" Merle cut into his reverie.

Gabriel blinked, grinning back as he reached to shut the door. "Just going, sir."

He saw no one on his way to the helm, reaching the radio and able to conduct the conversation free of eavesdropping ears as twilight fell outside the windows. The two men at their station gave command over to him at his request; at anchor, little occurred to distract the men. Ship's lighting on, Gabriel watched the slow rise of the moon through gathering darkness.

_Click._

Swiveling in his chair, the hunter relaxed on seeing a familiar form enter the bridge. "Henry."

"Gabriel," the man sank into another chair, staring out at the deepening night. "I sent Ben and Ned to bed," he said at last. "Though I don't know how much sleep they'll get, what with all the excitement."

The hunter chuckled. "Ben and Ned have dealt with more than the unexplained lurching of a ship, Henry." And those two followed the true survivalist's motto – never pass up a chance to sleep or eat, because you never know when your next opportunity will come up.

The thought thinned Gabriel's lips.

"Since I have you trapped here until the end of the watch," Henry began, eyes flicking over switches, panels, blinking lights, and most definitely _not_ meeting his own. "I was wondering what you thought of Laurel."

That was . . . unexpected. "She seems to be a good woman," Gabriel replied neutrally.

"Seems to be?" Disappointment pulled Henry's features down.

One eyebrow rose before Gabriel could stop it; thankfully, he was saved by the sound of approaching footsteps. "I'm afraid I don't know her well," was all he had time to say.

The head that poked through the hatch was not unwelcome at all from Gabriel's standpoint; on the other hand, he saw Henry level a scowl at his son and mentally rolled his eyes. The two men were more alike than they were different, which was a good deal of the problem.

"Here you are," Indy ducked through the hatch, slowing as the frown on his father's face registered. "What?"

"Nothing." The word was a little to curt to be truth.

Indy scowled in turn – Gabriel shifted his attention back to the panels before him. Henry was spoiling for a fight, and the hunter was damned if he could figure out why.

"It's not 'nothing', not when you've got that look on your face, Dad."

Acid dripped from every syllable, Henry's eyes flashing. "And I suppose -"

The hum of _Le Suriot_'s engines cut out abruptly, a moment before all the lights on the ship died.

"What the -"

"Don't move," Gabriel said sharply. "Emergency lights should come on -"

Pale lighting of green and red flooded the bridge, outlining panels and faces from the blackness.

"What's going on?" Wariness had replaced the anger in Henry's voice.

Gabriel studied the panels before him, unable to contain his frown. The readings made no sense – all engines out, completely? That – unless . . . The hunter started for the door, fingers searching for his key to lock the bridge behind them. "Come on. Watch your head."

"Where are we going?"

If he could have gotten them to go to their cabins and stay out of trouble, he would have. But these men had gotten to know him very well in the past fifty-odd years, and vice versa. "Engine room."

"Durand said the ship was sound -"

"And we've suddenly lost our engines," Gabriel cut Henry off. Something was skittering against his nerves, prickling the hair on the back of his neck. _Do you not sense it? It's wrong . . . _Gabriel saw a few men gathered against the starboard rail as he emerged on deck, headed for the stern. "Whinchcombe, Ninon, and Foss," he called. Three heads turned. "Get our emergency lanterns and be ready to set up lights aloft, and to port and starboard – we don't want anyone running into us out here."

"Aye, sir," Foss tugged at a blond curl, and gathered his mates up with a glance before heading below.

"Mr. Gollah, go inform the Captain of our present status," Gabriel continued, dealing with the last man's presence. "Then if you would lend a hand to Foss and the others?"

"Yes, sir."

A few quick steps took him to the hatchway he was seeking; it was the work of a moment to set himself on the path to the engine room. But it was a physical sense that hurried his steps more than the sudden clamoring of awareness just under his skin.

Smoke.


	4. Chapter 3

_Damn._

"Henry," Gabriel snapped, whirling toward the older man. Every word was a second lost, so he wasted none. "Go to the end of this hall and stay there. Don't let anyone in; tell anyone who objects that I said so. That means the Captain too. Indy," the younger man looked ready to follow him. "I need to know where everyone is. Pull the fire alarm, tell Nefis to count heads. He'll form teams to deal with it if there is a fire and search for anyone who is missing."

He didn't wait to see them obey. Gabriel threw himself down the ladder, one hand clutching a rag over nose and mouth. "Durand!"

Sharp coughing, nearer the boiler room than the engines.

Ducking under a choking plume, he ran for the hatchway. The bulky man was curled on metal grating, trying to find clean air near the ground. There wasn't much to be had.

Gabriel bent over, shouting almost in the engineer's face. "Is there anyone else here?"

"_Non_," Durand coughed. "I – I was checking -"

"Later," he hauled the larger man to his feet. "Out of the smoke. Now!"

Finding the ladder again was more luck than memory; smoke seared eyes and skin, obscuring the engine-room almost completely. Over the grinding of strained metal, Gabriel heard shouting from above. _Thank you, Abba._

He nearly ran face-first into the ladder; grabbing Durand, he shoved the man up ahead of him. Arms reached down, dragging them up another level. The first cool breath of oxygen clogged in their lungs, sending both Durand and Gabriel into hacking spasms.

"The fire," Merle's face was white; over his shoulder, Nefis had one hand white-knuckled on the hatch, blocking it with his body. "How bad?" _Do I send off the lifeboats?_ was the real question.

"There – there is no fire," Durand managed.

_Wh –_

The engineer was right. The smoke was light and smothering, gray with steam and dirt, not the black soot that came from combusting fuel igniting to take the ship down with it. _A fine coincidence._ If it was one. "What happened?"

"I do not know," Durand managed. One trembling hand swiped wet cloth against his face, scrubbing dirt free in streaks. "I was finished checking the double-checking the engine, and was working towards the boilers when -"

"Let me _through_, dammit!"

Gabriel's head snapped up; he didn't need to see Indy's face to know that panic soaked every word. Henry was on his heels as he shoved past Nefis to the floor-hatch spewing smoke.

The younger scientist's face was pinched, eyes bright with fear in the illumination of flashlights. "I can't find Ben. He and Ned aren't in their cabin."

Nefis paled. "He didn't show for the drill – I thought he was with you!"

_**Ben!**_ Gabriel called, reaching with the whole of him, _demanding_ a response.

Dazed blankness, shot through with helpless terror.

_No!_ Spitting a curse in a language long-dead to man, Gabriel rolled toward the hatch.

A hand grabbed his sleeve; Nefis, reliable and steady – and terrified as everyone else aboard _Le Suriot_. "_Mon dieu,_ Gabe, _vous êtes fou!_ You can't go back in there!"

The hunter ripped himself free; stuffing the rag into one pocket, he braced feet and hands against the steep ladder's railings and let gravity drag him down. _**Ben! Ned!**_

Canine panic, then, a blur of fear and fury that defied words – Gabriel slipped free of humanity, and ran. _The boiler room._

Only not quite. Smoke was thicker here, hindering flesh he had little care for. It would not stop _him._ But Ben and Ned . . .

The two were in a small side-room containing the back-up generators; he could feel them, behind the locked door. _Deliberately locked._ Three turns to send the bar solidly across the hatch into the waiting slot – and he had no _time._

Barricading metal flung itself open, letting a thick wave of smoke _out._

He couldn't see the two limp forms, but Gabriel found them unerringly through the stifling cloud. Ben was sprawled on metal grating, Ned at his side – backs to the door. In a trice, the boy was settled over one shoulder, the young dog scooped into waiting arms. They were barely breathing.

The hunter ran for the hatch – every moment stretched out in a haze of desperation and movement. Hands reached out as he sped up the ladder-like stairs toward clean air, dragging them all from the smoky depths.

"Come! Move back, give them room!"

"Get them out of the smoke!" Bedeau, ship's medic.

Merle roared over the babble of voices, "_Get that hatch shut!_"

Gabriel barely registered the sharp _clang!_ of metal slamming closed; hands were on his arms, pulling him out into the hallway where Bedeau had carried Ben. Indy had both arms around Ned, racing the Labrador after his master. Henry, he realized, was the one with the tight grip on his wrist.

Slamming into the Infirmary, Gabriel followed the lanky man as Bedeau settled Ben onto the examining table; it was so large, and the boy so small, that Ned was easily slipped into the space next to him. But he couldn't see ribs expanding. _Not breathing._

"I can't find a pulse," Bedeau reached for the defibrillator.

Gabriel yanked free of Henry. _**Ben! Ned!**_ One palm settled against each forehead, brushing dark fur and pale hair, in the short instant the medic's back was turned. _**Come now, little ones.**_

Lanterns burst through the hatch, concealing the bright light that erupted from the table for one precious second. Then it was gone, and harsh breathing filled the air. Bedeau whirled. "_DouxJésus !_"

Gabriel braced Ben as the boy struggled to breathe and cough at the same time; staggering to his paws, Ned filled the air with the sound of canine hacking, lips curled back from white teeth, pink tongue exposed as he wheezed.

Humanity slammed back into Gabriel, tearing from hazel eyes as his own lungs seized. Chaos descended in a haze of blackness and the fight for breath; warm hands gripped his shoulders.

"- rests, have him report to me." The Captain, voice breaking through the battle of lungs and senses. "Durand."

Braced against the table, Gabriel blinked.

From his position on another bed deeper in the Infirmary, the soot-covered engineer pushed up on his elbows. _"Capitan."_

_"Monsieur Durand. Le feu. Au rapport."_

"_Pas un feu_," the blocky engineer shook his head, resting back against the medical bed. "A burst pipe, releasing the steam running from the boilers, or one of the main vents clearing exhaust in the engine room. That would be the only thing that would give off smoke like that, and so quickly."

Indy shook his head, rubbing Ben's back as the boy's breathing slowly eased; across the table, Henry sighed.

Gabriel pushed past the roughness in his throat to speak. "But?"

The relief on Merle's face vanished as Durand hesitated.

"But there would be some sound, a warning," the engineer admitted. "Bursting pipes are not quiet. I heard nothing. And it does not explain the loss of power."

_Damn._ But he had known it, from the moment he had found the hatch locked on Ben and Ned.

"What about the lurching of the ship? Could that have caused this?" Merle's round face was stern, lines of care carving deeper into his forehead.

Understanding lit blue eyes. "Oh, sonuvabitch," Indy muttered, just under his breath. Gabriel grimaced.

The engineer's mouth twisted. "It is possible."

"_Enfer et damnation._ Nefis," Merle snapped. Fury vibrated off the short man in waves. "Take a team of four with you into the engine room. Protective gear. I want to know what happened in there, and I want the problem fixed."

The second mate saluted, casting a grim glance Gabriel's way. "_Immédiatement, Capitiane._"

The hunter saw Durand start up, the engineer straining against Bedeau's hands. "I must go with them!" he protested. "I must -"

Gabriel pushed out more words, taking the wind from the engineer's sails. "Bring Foss, Eugéne." The blond man was the engineer's mate, and knew the mechanics of _Le Suriot_ almost as well as Durand.

"He will do nicely," Nefis grinned back. "Pierpont and Roux too, I think." The second mate tossed off an insouciant salute, ducking back through the hatch.

A small, cold circle settled on his back; Gabriel jumped. Bedeau, wielding his stethoscope with gentle hands, squeezed one shoulder. "_Respirez,_" he ordered.

Gabriel breathed.

A boiling glare slanted his way, but Captain Jean Merle spoke to the ship's medic first. "How is he?"

"He should be intubated," Bedeau was looking to the oxygen tanks kept to one side of the room. "They all should, Ben especially. I want to do bronchoscopy on each, to ascertain the level of damage. _Monsieur_ Bateman is hoarse; there may be further damage. Ben and Ned were exposed to the smoke the longest, but they seem the most well-off." Puzzlement crinkled his brow with an easy explanation. "Possibly because they were on the floor, avoiding breathing it in."

A cough crested in his chest, breaking free and Gabriel hunched, groping for a tissue. Clear, viscous phlegm coated soft paper. Disgusted, he spat. "I'm fine," he balled up the tissue in one fist.

Jean gave a dismissive snort.

Bedeau's gentle skepticism washed over him. "Even the dog is better off than you, _Monsieur_, which I find to be a miracle, frankly. I am not a vet. I would not be able to treat him, were he worse off."

At the boy's wide eyes, and the sudden way the black Lab leant against his young master, Gabriel settled strong fingers between floppy dark ears, rubbing gently. _**Don't worry.**_

"Don't worry," Bedeau unconsciously echoed to the room. "I could hear no wheezing. Had I not seen this courageous beast pulled from the room with my own two eyes, I would not believe it."

"Well, that is good news," Henry smiled from behind round glasses.

"Which is in short supply right now," Indy added. He mustered up a smile for Ben, fingers gently curled around the boy's shoulder.

Ben spoke for the first time, young voice clear beneath pale skin and smoke-reddened blue eyes. "It's not that bad."

_No. It's worse._ The unknown malice lurking fathoms below had been mercifully quiet in the past hours, but the chaos which had filled that time easily made up for its lack.

A smile from Jean lightened the atmosphere considerably; the Captain's voice was thoughtful. "Indeed, you are right, young Ben. It may not be so bad as we imagine." Merle's dark eyes skimmed them all, and he nodded. "Get some rest, all of you. We are doing everything possible to contain the situation."

That last, Gabriel knew, was for the benefit of the scientists Henri Godenot and Indiana Johnson – neither of whom were accepting the pat answer. Luckily, the glance that passed between father and son told the hunter that they wouldn't challenge Merle on it. _At least, not openly._

"I need to speak with you," Gabriel rasped before Merle disappeared through the Infirmary hatchway.

"What you need to do is sit and rest," Bedeau countered. The medic motioned to the examining table where Ben and Ned had helpfully scooted sideways, making enough room for him to join them.

The hunter shook his head. _**I will join you later, little ones.**_

Blue and brown eyes met, before intersecting with hazel. In a moment that stretched forever, Ben and Ned filled his mind with images – flashing snapshots of _why_ and _what_ and _how_ that resolved into the concealed doings of a shadowed figure deep in _Le Suriot_'s backup generator room. _More important than I knew._ "Jean. It's important."

For a long moment, he wondered what he would do if Merle said no. But the Captain gave a curt nod, and Gabriel followed him through the hatch. He found himself gasping quietly for air as he tread the corridor after Jean, but the shortness of breath soon eased – more quickly than it should have for a human.

When they reached Merle's cabin, the man settled himself at the tiny desk and waited, fingers interlocked over scattered maps and the occasional pencil. "There is one thing I must say before we speak." Jean's face was blank, as it never was.

Gabriel felt one brow rise, and didn't stop it.

"Your disregard for your own well-being is a danger to this ship and all on it. Such behavior will not continue. If it does, you will be removed from your post and confined to quarters. Indefinitely."

Both brows hiked; shock settled in.

"Have I made myself clear?"

Gabriel swallowed past the smoke-induced roughness of his throat. "Crystal."

"Now." Jean settled back, a little friendliness leaking back into his gaze. "What did you wish to discuss?"

The friendliness grew horrified, then mutated to cold reason as Gabriel told the Captain of finding Ben and Ned locked in the smoke-filled generator room. "I believe that when we are able to examine the generators, we will find they have been damaged," he finished soberly. _By a threat that is all too human._

Jean hissed between his teeth, one fist slamming the desktop, sending a sexton jumping to the deck. "It explains much."

"Foss may find that it explains more than we dare suspect," Gabriel put in, grimness etching every word.

Merle went still as he caught the hunter's full meaning. "I want you to lock this ship down," he said at last. Coldness seeped through his tone to chill the room. "No one has access to the helm but you, Nefis, Durand, and myself. We must investigate all the crew, quietly. I was a fool not to think of this before."

Gabriel did not like the self-condemnation written on the Captain's face. "We had no reason to suspect."

Merle snorted, pacing in the tiny space available between desk and berth. "We had every reason to suspect! _Mon Dieu,_ we were searching for _Le Titanic_! Even without the wealth of knowledge and history the wreck holds, treasure-seekers and racketeers would kill just for the knowledge of her location!"

Gabriel's thoughts flashed to two small figures, slumped on hard grating, not breathing. "And today they almost succeeded."

Merle's movements stilled. "On my honor," the Captain said quietly, looking Gabriel in the eye, "they will not come so close again."

The hunter nodded, mind split between the reality and the gentle pounding of malevolent power far below. _Whoever it was, they are not the only threat to this ship's crew._

It waited in the deep, but it was patient.

And there was a saboteur onboard.

* * *

**A/N2:** Click my livejournal, linked as homepage on my ffnet bio, for some cover art I've created and the link to a trailer for this fic (the last courtesy Sol, the Instigator)! 

**A/N3:** Thanks so much to Daedaleon for the corrections on the French!

_Abba_ – 'Father', referring to God. (elfrowan's suggestion says this is possibly Greek, and I tend to agree.)

_Mon Dieu_ – My God

_Vous êtes fou_– You are insane

_DouxJésus _– Sweet Jesus

_Monsieur Durand. Le feu. Au rapport._ – Mr. Durand. The fire. Report.

_Pas un feu_ – not fire

_Enfer et damnation _– Damn it all to hell

_Immédiatement_ – Immediately

_Respirez_ - Breathe


	5. Chapter 4

_**Two and a half weeks ago:**_

"It's just a rumor."

Indy grinned at Penelope, dipping his pickle in a smear of mayonnaise. "Oh, really?"

"I'm with Indy on this one," Remi added. Across the rickety galley table they'd dragged out onto deck, the historian pursed thin lips in thought. "You can't just dismiss the evidence of that many eyewitness accounts."

"Oh, you want to talk about eyewitness accounts?" Dumont pounced. Wind toyed with the hair he'd dyed jet-black, harsh sun glinting off the silver stud in his bottom lip. "All the first-class passengers and officers insisted she sank in one piece -"

"Did you even look at Jack Thayer's drawings?" Indy pushed copies across the table to the underwater archaeologist-turned-Goth. "Look! Engineers confirm that it is possible; she was over forty-five thousand tons! Half that weight suspended without support at an angle of -"

"The ship didn't _break in half_," Penelope snorted. The archaeologist, expert on White Star Line, and reigning queen of debate lifted her hands over the vanquished remains of lunch to illustrate. "Maybe if they hit the iceberg head on they might have been able to make it into port for repairs, like the _SS Arizona_ -"

"Records from Officer Landry's surviving logs suggest they turned, and didn't think they'd hit it at all," Theo interrupted. A smile graced his round face as he added fuel to the argument raging between the archaeologists. "Until, of course, they checked below-decks."

Dumont slammed one palm against the dinky table situated on the foredeck, many rings clanking against the metal. "The iceberg ripped a massive gash in the starboard side of the hull, under the waterline; it must have, for her to have gone down so fast. How else do you explain such a rapid -"

"You're delusional," Penelope retorted, tying chestnut curls up and out of the mischievous breeze prancing over the deck. "Next you'll be trying to convince us that the Heart of the Ocean is actually the Hope Diamond."

"Oh, no, it's down there," Charlotte said blithely, chiming in for the first time and ducking a potato chip flung from further down the table. France colored all of her words with the gentle lilt of Languedoc. "IFREMER thinks so -"

"So it must be true," the French half of the scientists chorused, grinning in unity despite the many sides of the argument they supported.

"Can you think, if we actually found it, though?" Veronique had been quietly watching the squabbling, finishing her soup before speaking. "Wouldn't it be wonderful?"

"We'll find it," Indy said with certainty.

"We're thirteen nautical miles from the "official" resting place of _Le Titanic,_" Justin cut in, wry smile gracing his face. "I think we need to go closer to where it's reported to have sunk."

"Well I think you should read the captain's logs again," Veronique shot back. "The _RMS Carpathia_'s log of the weather that night showed strong northeasterly trade winds. It's not impossible to think that the surviving lifeboats drifted from the site of the sinking in the hour and forty minutes since the ship went down."

"I'd be surprised if they hadn't drifted more," Indy dragged the copies of Thayer's drawings back across the scarred tin surface of the table.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Justin declared, pushing away from the table. "Now if you'll excuse me, some of us have work to do." He staggered only a little as he tromped toward the stairs leading down into the ship.

"Watch those sea legs," Dumont teased, voice carrying across the deck.

As he disappeared down the hatch, Justin turned, good-naturedly flipping them off. Indy grinned amid the faux-shocked gasps of Veronique and Charlotte. He reached out, snagging another handful of chips.

They crunched at leftovers in companionable silence, the French and the American scientists basking together in the sun and salt-sea breeze. "Think if we did find it," Theo said dreamily. "We would finally know what happened."

Penelope, draped over her chair, abandoned the relaxed pose to sit forward, popping on a pair of sunglasses to avoid squinting into the glare. "Think of the history. No one has laid eyes on her since the night she sank. We could be the first to see her in seventy years. . ."

"And we'd finally have IFREMER satisfied, no longer breathing down our necks," Charlotte added, throwing a dash of reality into the mix. For a quiet woman who didn't speak much, she seemed to see everything with a cynical eye that impressed even Indy.

"Oh, the trials and tribulations of the archaeologist," Veronique sighed. A twitch of her fingers slipped the drawings from Indy's grasp; green eyes lingered over finely sketched lines. "Funding, funding, funding."

"Salvage rights," Remi's lips twisted in disgust. Rubbing his hands free of chip-salt on worn slacks, the historian jabbed a finger on the thin metal table, eyes snapping. "The despoiling of our history, the ravaging of irreplaceable, limited founts of knowledge, and all for what? Money? Fame? To those who do not even appreciate the greatest of human endeavors but for it to be turned into the almighty coin? Blasphemous, evil -"

"_Mon Dieu,_ someone please, stop him now," whined Theo pitiably.

Penelope raised a brow, mouth opening to object. Indy winced. _And here it comes . . ._"White Star line does have -"

"And on that note, I think it's time I got back to my – something," Indy said hurriedly, jumping up from his chair. _Can only take so many debates in one day._

"Weaseling out on us, hey?" Dumont flashed him a peace sign with two heavily-ringed fingers. Boos and a chorus of jibes followed him as he made his escape from the resurrection of what had already become a hefty argument in the four days they'd been at sea. Tempers were still under control, but only just. _I think I'll let Dad deal with it._

The thought made his lips curl in amusement as he ducked into the cooler belly of _Le Suriot._ Watching his dad sort out a group of archaeologists arguing like disgruntled children – that, he would pay money to see. Indy took the corner quickly, eager to find out what Justin was up to with the underwater subs.

And came face-to-face with the second mate, Nefis. Adrenaline pumped; Indy swerved abruptly, just barely missing barreling into the shorter man. And banged up against the wall of the cramped hallway. "Jeez!"

The second mate of the ship had hauled himself backward and to the side; the two men found themselves pressed against the walls in surprise. _Better than ending up on the floor._ "I am sorry," Nefis was recovering from the surprise. "Are you quite alright, Dr. Johnson?"

Gulp in air. Breathe. "I'm fine," Indy offered. "You?"

"A little surprised, but then, that is the sea," the other man laughed it off. "Are your fellow archaeologists truly so frightening, then?"

_He's got to be kidding._ Indy threw his mind back, searching, and then realized. "You weren't in the mess for the fight two nights ago, were you?"

"My sleep shift," Nefis shrugged, dark eyes twinkling.

"Well, you missed the spirited debate on the origins of the Heart of the Ocean legend, and the likelihood that the stone is down there," Indy grimaced, running a hand through his hair as he remembered. Imminent bloodshed, and stonily polite voices. "Penelope with a steak-knife is a truly frightening sight."

"Oh, that one!" A grin darted over the man's angular face. "I was more interested in the legend, truth. I have not heard of the Heart of the Ocean outside grand sailor's yarns."

"Remind me to give you the real account someday," Indy grinned, and double-checked that the door leading abovedecks had latched behind him.

"I will take you up on that," Nefis agreed. "But doubtless you, as I, have work that needs doing, no?"

"_Oui,_" Indy agreed, testing the limits of his French. He laughed when a pained grimace crossed the second-mate's face. "I know, my accent's pretty bad."

The man shook his head, feet already taking him down the corridor towards the bridge; Indy's route brought him deeper into the workspace for the scientists, submarine experts, and archaeologists. Ducking into a room filled to overflowing with books, references, and a computer that took up a wall, he found a surprise waiting for him. Two surprises. "Ben? Ned?"

"Hi," Ben smiled at him from under a fringe of blond bangs. "Ned and I thought we'd see what was going on." At his side, the black Lab's head bobbed in a nod, tongue lolling.

"Nothing exciting," Indy said frankly, a little surprised. He settled into his chair, rolling a little across the deck. "I've been going over a few of the reports on the weather the night of the sinking, trying to narrow down where precisely the lifeboats drifted after she went down."

Interest kindled in blue eyes. "Can I see?"

Pulling out his glasses, Indy paused. "If you like." He passed the papers over, watching in amusement as the boy spoke quietly to his dog, who whined and licked, nodded and sneezed in response. _Gabriel said, but it's something different to see it. _"He talks to you?"

"Yes," the boy nodded, settled on the floor with a large chart. "I can hear him, in my mind, and he can hear me. But it's nice to not have to worry about someone watching."

_Too serious for his age._ Well, maybe not if the kid really was a few hundred years old, but something twinged behind his ribs to see such aged thoughtfulness in the young face. "Did Gabriel ever tell you about the time he and I met up in New Orleans during Mardi Gras?" Indy knew for a fact the hunter hadn't. That was one trip Gabriel "Bateman" would be more than willing to forget. He stifled a snicker.

Ben met his gaze, clearly curious. Ned's head shook, ears flopping.

Gabriel might gut him for rehashing this story, but Indy could see it would be worth it. "It was in 1956, if I remember right. Mardi Gras is the biggest party in the American southeast, and I'd decided that as an anthropologist I needed to observe the culture. Mingle with the natives, that sort of thing." It was half true, anyway, but the grin Ben cast him was a little too knowing. "Anyway, I got there . . ."

_"Gabriel?" _

_Hazel eyes met his, surprised. "Indy. What are you doing here?"_

_He couldn't stop his eyes from following the brightly-colored crowds, laughing and happy and drunk, with less clothing than was normally considered proper. "Just . . . taking in the sights. You?" He didn't look away from one particularly attractive woman whose shirt was more than a little wet and see-through. _

_"Hunting," came the bland response._

_"Right," Indy nodded, the sign outside one hole-in-the-wall establishment catching his eye. "Always hunting. Thirsty work. Come on." He latched onto one wrist, dragging the reluctant hunter as he headed across the street packed with dancing, joyous people. __**Kiss for Beer**__, the sign read. _

A giggle of anticipation pulled him from his storytelling; Ben's face was alight with laughter, and Ned's tail wagged mischievously. Indy tossed them a wink, and kept going.

_"Mmmph!" _

_Wide, surprised eyes met Indy's over the head of the girl who was currently attached to Gabriel at the lips. The archaeologist grinned. _

_A second later she bounced back, brown hair swinging over her shoulders, green eyes a little disappointed. "Huh. Not here for the celebration, are you?" No sign of Louisiana in her voice; not local, then. _

_The hunter blinked. "I'm sorry?"_

_"A kiss like that, you should be," she muttered, hands propped on hips. "What's a girl gotta do to -"_

_A hand on her arm reeled her back in, and lips descended to swallow the rest of her sentence. _

_Indy stared. _

_Gabriel bent the girl gently back over the arm he'd snugged around her waist, bodies pressed together, head tilted and mouth plundering. One of her hands snuck into his hair, pulling dark strands free of the clasp at the base of his neck; as Indy watched, the hunter shifted impossibly closer to her, deepening the kiss. _

_The first catcall came from a large black woman hefting a sweating pitcher. Indy joined in, whistling loudly and clapping only a few feet away, and the two broke apart as the café around them broke into wild cheers. He snickered to see the blush high on his friend's cheeks. _

"And Mama Ntombi gave us the entire pitcher," Indy reminisced, the remembered taste of cool, home-brewed beer on that hot night filling his mouth with water.

A delighted giggle again broke against his reverie, and Indy looked up to see the clouds in blue eyes chased away by laughter.

"It gets better," he assured the boy.

"Better than _that?_" A bark accompanied the question that barely made it out from between gasping chuckles.

"I haven't even told you about the hunt." Indy settled further into his chair, feet popping up to settle atop scattered scrap paper on the tiny table he used as a desk.

_"There!" _

_He strained his eyes, the whirling, colorful crowd getting in the way. "Where?"_

_"Come on!" Fingers dug into Indy's wrist, dragging him through dancing mobs and confetti showers, beads slapping his face from one woman's particularly enthusiastic throw. _

_The ghostly figure wove through the masses, untouched by the chaos of the Mardi Gras celebration. They raced after her, darting between the shifting hordes, chasing the fluttering tatters of her Victorian-era dress. _

_He saw Gabriel throw out a hand, reaching –_

_"Hey!" _

_Indy gaped; for a ghost, she was remarkable substantial. The woman, pancake makeup smeared thickly over her face, blood streaming artistically from a gash on her neck, glared at them. "Who are you? Did Brad call in sick again? I swear, amateurs who don't read the script -"_

_Gabriel was just as stunned. "What?"_

_"Look, you done a lovely job and all, but you're not supposed to catch me until we reach Central Square," she admonished, white-painted hands with dagger-like nails propped on her hips. "In five minutes, because the fireworks start in fifteen. Honestly, didn't Jim go over this with you?" _

_"No," Indy jumped in, after watching the hunter flounder for a minute. "Last-minute replacements, you know how it is." _

_She snorted, tossing tangled black hair back over one shoulder. He got a good look at the 'wound' covering the left side of her neck. "You'd think with all the effort he went into getting people to put up graffiti and getting the cops in on the deaths, he could at least find a ghost-buster who showed up on time!" _

_"So, the Curse of the Voodoo Priestess -" Indy started, feeling a grin creeping in at the corners of his mouth. _

_"That's me," she said proudly, red-painted lips smiling wide. _

"Turns out the whole thing was orchestrated by the city of New Orleans for the Mardi Gras celebration."

Ben had both hands clamped over his mouth, whole body twitching with giggles. Ned had rolled onto his back, all four legs and tail waving with glee.

Indy folded his hands on his lap, chuckling. "You should have seen his face when -"

_Tap tap._

The door slid open, a dark-haired head leaning in. "Hey Indy, have you seen -"

Ben burst out laughing, wiggling hysterically on the floor next to the Black Lab, who was rolling back and forth with the rocking of _Le Suriot_.

Puzzlement crossed Gabriel's face at the hilarity that greeted him. "What's so funny?"


End file.
